Assassin
by I'mDifferent-GetOverIt
Summary: Zia's village was destroyed when she was eight; Carter lost his mom at the same age. Both seek revenge...against each other. Will they be able to correct their mistakes before it's too late, and discover the true villain? T for mild swearing, and death.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

**A/N: Hey guys! I've had this idea since around Thanksgiving (the Friday after, actually; I was in a restaurant with my cousins, aunt and mom on Venice Beach), wrote some in Music class about a week ago, but didn't get around to writing more/typing it up/publishing it until now. Sorry for the wait! Blame school, especially science fair. If anyone's burning that thing, count me in! Anyway...I hope you like this.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. I actually own quite a bit of the plot, though, because I had to shape it a bit differently because of the AU-ness (yeah, the mortal world _totally_ has giant evil snakes. #sarcasm -_-).**

Eight-year-old Zia Rashid was bored out of her mind. If it hadn't been for her elbow and her hand, her head would have slumped onto the desk long ago. A hot, sandy breeze puffed through the windows—though they were really just square-shaped holes spaced along the walls of the school-house that they covered with cloth when school wasn't in session. The breeze was far from calming, or refreshing, quite the opposite, though it did relieve the back of her neck, which was sticky with sweat, her short, black hair clinging to the skin. She brushed a few stray strands that had fallen out of her hair-bow back from her face, continuing to copy the spelling words as the teacher wrote them on the board. Her hand was cramping from so much writing, but Zia pushed it aside, trying to concentrate on making her script neat-looking, knowing it would be easier to study that way.

It was almost time for school to end. That thought kept her from throwing the notebook across the room in frustration. She knew what most of the words meant, despite their large size; she just couldn't spell them! Who cares if there was another 'c' meant to be added in? Zia sure didn't. You could always sound out the word; they sounded the same!

Finally, after what seemed like ages, they were released. The children burst into chatter, discussing a multitude of things, most of which Zia didn't care about. Hence, her not being included in—or wanting to, for that matter—the conversations. She quietly packed up her books and pens, before slinging her bag over her shoulder and following the rest of her class out the doors, into the dry desert they called home.

Zia headed straight for the mud-brick hut that was her house. She pushed open the door made of driftwood her father had found on the Nile years ago. Inside, her older siblings, Miyaz, Labeeb, and Yazmine were all home. While her brothers weren't in the house, minus little Alexander, she knew they were home; they didn't go to school, they worked in the fields with their father. Yazmine was sitting on the floor, playing with the twins, Alexander and Amani, who were only a year old.

Looking at the family, you would immediately know they were a family. Zia's mother had the same dark brown eyes and black hair, though hers was curly, that her children had. Except Zia, who had her father's amber eyes. Yazmine was almost exactly like their mother, though her nose was her father's. The older boys were the same as her. Alexander and Amani had their father's brown hair, and their mother's brown eyes.

"Hello," Zia greeted her family, her bag already neatly placed on the hard-packed dirt-floor near her side of the bed.

Yazmine looked up at her sister, smiling. "Hello, Zia."

"Would you like me to watch them?" She gestured the Alexander and Amani, who were playing happily together, which was nice for once.

Yazmine nodded. "I will be cooking with Mother." She stood up, and disappeared into the kitchen

Zia smiled at her sister, nodding in reply, sitting cross-legged with the twins. The three played until dinner time, when their father and brothers returned from the fields. By that time, it was sunset; the sky a blurry watercolor of pinks, oranges, blues and yellows along the horizon, the sun a fiery ball slipping behind the sand dunes in the distance.

The family sat around the roughly hand-carved dining table. Their father said the grace, and then served each of his children, before his wife, and then himself. It was a normal night for the Rashid family; laughter and discussion about their days filling the air of the dinner table. It gave the atmosphere a very homey feel; the people around the table were a family.

However normal the evening seemed, it wasn't; not at all.

The whole house was asleep, except one stirring Zia. She couldn't fall asleep, no matter how hard she tried. Yazmine mumbled into her pillow next to Zia, the former still deep asleep.

Then came the sound.

It sounded like nothing Zia had ever heard before; a loud whooshing sound, and then the distant screams of villagers. She bolted upright in bed, absently wondering if _this _was why she hadn't been able to fall asleep; some foretelling of some tragedy that was bound to occur. She flung herself out from underneath the blankets, bare feet pounding on the dirt.

"Zia! Get yourself out of the house! Hide in the reeds by the banks!" her mother ordered, voice commanding. It was a voice you did not disobey under any usual circumstances. But this was more than just a beating with the wooden paddle; this was life or death, her family—the only one she'd ever known—could _die_. "But—"

"No buts! Just go!" Zia was shoved out the door, almost tumbling into the sand, but she caught herself just in time. Making a split second decision, she took off towards the river, which wasn't all that far; maybe a few meters from her front door. Following her mother's instructions, she dove underneath the reeds by the dwindling banks of the river, her heart racing, though it felt like it was somewhere in the region of her throat rather than her chest.

The whooshing sound returned. She peered up. Through the reeds, she could see something, rather like a large bird, flying over her head, off to the side of her a few feet. It was made of metal, and there were tiny blinking lights all over the wings and body of it, whatever it was. Through the blinking lights, she could make out a face, the _thing_ was flying so low. It was a face she could never, ever forget, no matter how hard she tried. Truthfully, she didn't want to. That face was the one she was looking for, to kill for killing her family.

Dark olive skin. No hair except a beard. Dark eyes. Regal-looking. The evil grin plastered on his lips.

It was forever burned into her memory.

###

"Carter! Stay over there, and make sure your sister does too!"

Carter Kane nodded, grabbing his sister's slight-sticky six-year-old hand and did as he was told. He pulled her into an alleyway, standing in front of her, being the protective older brother he was, even if whoever—whatever—his parents were fighting scared him.

"Let me go!" Sadie ordered, trying to wrench her hand from her brother's grip.

"No, Dad said not to let you go." Carter's brown eyes met Sadie's blue ones. The staring contest quite a while for one of the contestants being only six. The siblings were more than stubborn.

"But...but..."

A cackling laughter put a stop to the siblings' bickering. Both watched, naive eyes intent on the scene played out in front of them.

"You thought you could run and hide, didn't you?" a cold, calm voice said, with an air of superiority and accomplishment.

"We weren't running and hiding," their mom corrected the other woman, her voice just as calculating and frigid. It scared both siblings to hear their mother like that; she was always so happy and full of life. Her eyes weren't sparkling like usual; the blue color was icy. Her caramel hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, flowing down her back.

"What would you call it then?" the woman asked. Carter caught a glimpse of her around the brick wall. She was not very tall, as he'd pictured her. Her black hair was twisted into a bun at the back of her head, her eyes covered by sunglasses. Her wardrobe was all black; as if she was trying to blend in.

"Protecting our children from the likes of _you_," their dad shot back, as if 'you' was the worst thing in the world. "You wouldn't know, you don't have children." His posture was stiff, something that surprised both children; their dad was always relaxed, unless they were in large crowds, and they were the only people around here now. His bald head was beaded with sweat, as if he was nervous. His brown eyes were flashing, regal-looking jaw set stubbornly. His dark olive skin seemed almost paler—though because of the cold or fright was unknown to anyone but him.

Despite Cleopatra's Needle being a major tourist attraction, the dreary, rainy weather had appeared to turn off a majority of tourists; plus it was past dark, when you couldn't see it as well as during the day, which most likely turned many tourists away too.

Carter spotted the woman slip something out of her pocket, but he couldn't tell what. It sent a chill down his spine, even if he didn't know what it was.

"I actually do have children, Julius." This new fact seemed to surprise the siblings' parents. "One daughter, about your son's age, eight years old." Even from their distance, the siblings could see a playful smirk played across the woman's dark pink lips. "If they were to, ah, have an arranged marriage, your family might be safe..."

"I'm _never_ letting my son marry your daughter," their mother cut in. Carter was thankful for that. If the woman's daughter was anything like her, he would absolutely hate being married to her. Besides, he was too young to think about marriage; he was still a little boy who wanted to play with Hotwheels and tease his sister.

Carter and Sadie both knew the instant before it happened. Both tried to call out, try to warn their parents, but it was too late.

"How will you do that when you're dead?" The woman made a swift motion with her hand, one pulling away from the other, where a small, round object lay. She flung it away from her, as if it was a rabid animal going to bite her.

There was a frenzy; no one knew what happened. Both Ruby and Julius tried to take the grenade for each other, but Ruby ended up getting the full blast, making the ultimate sacrifice for her family. There was an explosion, and suddenly everything went dark. The strange woman began to flee, taking off in another direction. Carter tried to follow her, but was stopped in his tracks by his father kneeling next to his mother, crying out, looking up at the sky and pleading.

"D-Dad? M-Mom?"

No answer from either. His mom made a strangled chocking sound, and then nothing. His dad began to sob uncontrollably, calling out her name every few moments.

Then it hit Carter. His mom was _dead_. And that woman was responsible. He remembered everything about her: her height, hair, face, voice, and the fact that she had a daughter.

###

Both were going to get their revenge on the people they thought were to blame. But our enemies are often masters of disguise, lurking in the shadows, turning us against each other before swooping in when we are at our worst.

**A/N: Hi again. :) How'd ya like it? I rather enjoyed writing it...though the Ruby/Julius thing was so hard to write. It's so sad...I love them together...so cute...*sniffle* Anyway. Review, and put on alert/favorites? Thanks so much! Constructive Criticism and Flames are accepted.**


	2. 1 Revenge

**Chapter 1: Revenge**

**A/N: Hey guys! :) How's that for a speedy update? :D I hope you like this chapter as much as many of you seemed to like the prologue. :) And just so you all know, gingerroot15 had a very accurate prediction. :)**

**Disclaimer: Me no owny. Sadface.**

Zia never, ever forgot that man's face, the one she had seen in the "bomber plane", as she had learned it was called. It would haunt her dreams, the reason she would wake up screaming into her pillow, drenched in a cold sweat most nights. For her, sleep was only reliving painful memories, not something relaxing and refreshing like it was for most people. She could remember it all so clearly, however much she tried not to. At least, that last painful memory; it hurt so much to think of her family being murdered like that – even the kids who had teased her so much over the years, they didn't deserve that.

She never told anyone about her nightmares; they would only cause worry and trouble. So she let the images eat away at her from the inside, but filled that space with anger and sadness.

It was one such night, six years after her whole life had been redesigned. At fourteen, she had been living with her foster-family for five years, and had adjusted to American life, though she was home-schooled, so it wasn't _completely_ normal. But then again, _she_ wasn't normal either.

Her eyes snapped open, wide on the ceiling she couldn't see due to the darkness in her bedroom. She slowly rose to a sitting position, cold sweat coating her face and arms, making her short hair stick to her face and neck. Chest heaving with heavy breaths, she pushed aside the covers, her feet meeting the plush rug beside her bed. Being careful to stay as silent as possible as not to wake anyone else up, she crept downstairs to get a drink of water, her throat feeling parched.

While her bare feet were padding along the stairs, her mind was spinning. She felt an odd feeling rise and bubble in her stomach. It was the need for balance, something to equal out what was done. _Revenge. _She needed revenge, against the man who had killed her whole village, who's face had haunted her dreams for years, causing her seemingly endless trauma. She wanted to watch him wither in pain; she wanted him dead. Dead like her brothers and sisters. Dead like her parents. Dead like her former classmates. Dead like the village in the sands.

###

Little did Zia know that, right as she was thinking those thoughts, the very man she wanted dead was dying.

###

"Dad, please!" Carter pleaded, tears sparkling in his brown eyes – almost identical to the dying man's in front of him. "Please."

"R-Ruby..." Julius chocked, gripping his side painfully, where blood had already drenched his shirt, with one hand, the other reaching out to thin air. Those were the last words that Julius Kane ever spoke. His arm slumped back to his torso, and he was still from then onward.

"It's no use," came the calm, cool, collected voice that had seared itself into Carter's mind for the past six years. His head snapped up.

"You." The cold harshness of his voice surprised him. He never expected to sound like that, almost...bloodthirsty.

"Me." A smirked was splayed across the woman's rose-colored lips, as if she found Julius's death amusing. Which, given what she had done to Carter's mother, she did find this entertaining. Six years hadn't seemed to make their mark on her; she still looked the same with her dark sunglasses hiding her eyes, black clothes, and her dark hair pulled back.

Noticing the bloody knife she clutched in her hand, he had his solid proof, not just a fleeting suspicion, however likey it had been. "You killed him." He slowly stood up, glaring at the woman. He tried to maintain a confident composure, as if he knew what he was doing, but truthfully he had no clue how to take on this woman – but he was going to anyway, just to avenge his parents.

"Carter! Get inside, _now_!"

Carter turned at the sound of his uncle's voice, the door to the mansion thrown wide open. It was where they – Carter and his dad – were supposed to be, safe. If only they had made it. The woman had stabbed him in the side; he could see the darkness where blood had soaked his dad's shirt. It was a sickening sight, and made Carter want to break down and cry. First his mom had died, and then his sister had left. Now this? Would there be an end to this emotional torment?

"Carter. Inside. Now." Not knowing what else to do, Carter crept towards the sound of the voice. In the dim light, he could see the woman tense, staying still. She wasn't going to attack him now; Amos evidently scared the woman, or at least she didn't think she could overcome him in a fight. Carter crept inside the door to the mansion, suddenly drenched in yellow light, as opposed to the endless darkness of the outdoors.

Amos pushed Carter inside the warm living room, and instead of following, he turned out the door, and disappeared out into the darkness, leaving Carter more alone than ever.

"Is life trying to run me over, or something?" he muttered under his breath.

###

The next morning, Amos only told Carter a few things; they wouldn't be seeing any more of the woman, but nothing further. He got the feeling things went down last night that should not get to any authority if he liked his uncle out of jail, which he did.

But there was a slightly less sad piece of information too. Sadie would be moving to the States again; her flight was tomorrow, arriving around four in the afternoon. Both of their custody had transferred to Amos, and they would now be living with him. Carter barely heard his uncle speak though; his thoughts were consumed by the woman and what had happened to her.

He pledged to himself that he _would_ find out. Maybe not now, but someday. And if, by chance, she _wasn't_ dead, he would make sure she was.

He remembered something from that night six years ago...she had a daughter.

_I'll kill her daughter too. _

###

They say vengeance is sweet; will the two agree with that?

**A/N: Gotta love my endings. xD Anyway...review? :D **


	3. 2 Dinner Parties

**Chapter 2: Dinner Parties**

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the slow updating, but I didn't know what I was doing with the chapter until recently, and homework is hindering my writing time. :( Meanie homework. Anyway. Enough about my life. On to the story!**

**Disclaimer: Me no owny.**

Zia hated dressing up, but she could deal with it, for tonight at least. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, making her fingers tremble with excitement as she adjusted the hem of her too-short black dress. Normally, she wouldn't have even _considered _a dress like this one – barely covering her legs and shoulders – but it was forced upon her by some of her colleagues.

But she could deal with the dress and high heels. Tonight was the night she could finally get her chance at revenge – or at least the start of it.

"You all remember the plan?" asked Michel Desjardins, in his thick French accent. He was another agent of the FBI, and had been for a while now. He was a man in his early forties, but was still as quick and agile he had been twenty years ago. Next to him was his wife, Marie. She had been the one who had chosen their dresses for the evening.

Zia nodded. "Yes. You do as well?" She fingered the clasp of her black handbag, remembering the pistol inside. She grinned, mischief glinting in her eyes.

"Of course," Michel answered. "Remember, though, that gun in your bag is for protection and chances that we're going to be shot at too; _do not shoot first_. We're only here to collect information."

"Right, right," Zia said, waving off his order. He didn't understand her yearn for their blood to be spilled. No one knew the full story of her orphaning, just that she used to live in Egypt, and her family was killed when she was eight, and was then adopted by a loving family and moved to America. They didn't know _who _had killed her family. But then again, she had to follow his orders; he was her superior, having been an agent longer than she had been.

She turned her head out the window, at the breathtaking sunset behind the concrete buildings of Brooklyn. The colors sent a sense of deja vu down her back, the memories of the last night with her family coming back strong and fast. Quickly, she put up a wall to stop the quell of memories, successfully stopping them from taking over her. It was a skill that had been difficult for her to master, hiding her emotions.

It seemed strange how it seemed like only yesterday she was coming up to her foster family's house for the first time, scared and alone. Now, she had graduated from Yale with a law degree, and joined the terrorism unit in the FBI, little over a year ago, at the age of twenty-four. She was now a year older, wiser and quicker. She could clearly remember seeing that man's picture in the file of cases, and overwhelming sense of deja vu, hitting her like a truck. Back then, there had been no lead on the case; they only knew that the man – Julius Kane, they said was his name – was a dangerous terrorist. Zia knew it too; he'd wiped out a whole village mercilessly in Egypt. Well, except one little girl...

The limousine pulled to a stop in front of a mansion. It looked like it was made of marble, a pearly, creamy color. It must have had over a hundred rooms, judging by all the windows lining the sides of the house. Zia, Michel, and Marie stepped out of the limo, thanking the driver. Michel informed him (the driver) that he would call him when they needed him again.

"Smile," Marie whispered to Zia, who had her usual frown plastered across her face. "Act like you want to be here."

Zia complied, turning the edges of her lips upward in a fake, but pleasant and believable smile. She straightened her posture, as she followed Michel and Marie to the man who was standing by the gate – or, more accurately, leaning against it. He had a bored expression on his face, as he checked guest's invitations.

The trio got in without any commotion or trouble, which was a nice change.

"Go and mingle," Michel muttered to Zia in an undertone. "Talk to people, find out anything you can." Zia nodded, and strode off into the crowd.

To be frankly honest, she didn't like talking, or large amounts of people. That was part of the reason she was so good at her job; she kept secrets. But when it came to gleaning information from people, she was terrible. Perhaps she was _too _careful, and simply didn't talk to people. She had always been classified as an introvert, and being an FBI agent sworn to secrecy had only seemed to further this.

She somehow ended up talking to a bubbly blonde girl with a southern accent.

"I'm Jaz," she introduced herself, with a grin, revealing straight, white teeth. She extended a hand.

"Zia," Zia replied, hesitantly taking her hand and giving it a small shake.

Jaz began to talk about the program Amos Kane – Julius's brother – was running here in this mansion. It was mostly during the summer, but also during school breaks. He trained kids and some young adults in martial arts and fighting. It seemed interesting, but also suspicious. _Why would a middle-aged man train kids to fight?_

"He does this all alone?" Zia asked, looking around at all of the people milling about, talking and laughing.

"No, of course not!" Jaz answered. "He has his niece and nephew to help, Sadie and Carter. In fact, they're over there, with Amos." Jaz pointed in the direction of a platform, where a man about her age, twenty-five, who looked too much like Julius for Zia's liking, was talking with an older man, with beads in his hair and a fedora on his head, and a girl who also looked to be in her early twenties, with long caramel hair streaked with red. "I think Amos is going to make his speech now," Jaz thought aloud.

Zia watched as the fedora-clad man stepped up to the microphone, and cleared his throat.

"I would like to thank all of you for attending this year's summer program here. It was a pleasure to teach you all, and I hope to see you return next year. The buffet is towards the back; help yourself." He stepped back and the room exploded in chatter again.

After a few more minutes of Jaz explaining how the organization worked, Zia asked, "Doesn't Amos have a brother, Julian or something?"

Jaz's expression became more somber. "He used to. Julius died almost ten years ago. He was Carter and Sadie's dad."

"Oh." While she didn't say much, Zia's mind was whirling. _So...Julius died. And Carter's his son, and Sadie his daughter. I should have known about Carter; he looks almost exactly like him. But Sadie? She must look like her mother. _

"Zia?" Jaz asked, tilting her head to the side.

"What?" Zia looked up, jolted out of her thoughts.

"You weren't talking."

"Oh, sorry." She paused. "What are Carter and Sadie like?"

Jaz shrugged. "Carter's real smart and bookish. Sadie's sarcastic and rebellious."

Zia nodded. "Well, it was nice talking to you, but I'll be going to get some food now."

"Okay." Jaz waved, then her eyes caught the attention of another girl. "Hey, Alyssa!" She ran up to another girl, and the two began chattering joyously.

Zia turned away, not feeling the least bit guilty about her excuse to go eat. She searched around for more people to talk to, and discovered a few more things:

-Carter was in fact twenty-five, like her, while Sadie was twenty-three.

-Sadie had lived in England from when she was six until she was twelve.

-Carter had traveled the world with his dad when he was eight (when his mom had died) until he was fourteen, when Julius had died.

All in all, it wasn't much, but it was sending Zia's mind on a roller coaster. If what she heard was true, then that would mean that Julius had died around the time she was fourteen, and Ruby – as she learned Julius's wife was called – when she was eight, which was – coincidentally, or not – the same age she had been when her family had been ki -

Deep in thought but still walking, she didn't see where she was going and ran into someone. They both tumbled down to the ground.

"Sorry," the person she had run into apologized, standing up and extending a hand for her. She took it, hauling herself to her feet and brushing off her dress. He tilted his head to the side, peering at her curiously. "I feel like I've seen you before...but you weren't here before, were you?"

Zia shook her head, and realized that the boy was _Carter Kane. _Tensing her muscles, she kept his gaze. Recognition flashed across his eyes, and he didn't look to pleased. The two stared at each other for several minutes, before she broke the gaze.

"I have to go check on something," he muttered, turning and walking in a different direction.

Zia watched him leave, thinking on everything he said. He had left too quickly for her tastes, like he was afraid to talk to her. Everything about that conversation sent chills down her spine.

If anything, talking with Carter Kane had only furthered her want to be the cause of his death.

**A/N: BAD ZIA! YOU DO NOT WANT TO KILL CARTER! }:(**

**Ahem.**

**Review? :3 I promise to update faster; I already have the next chapter in mind.**


	4. 3 Meetings and Revelations

**Chapter 3: Meetings and Revelations**

**A/N: ...I should stop saying that I'll update soon, because I _never _do. I always end up waiting like two to three (to six to seven) months in which I don't write a word unless it's for school. I am so sorry you guys, but I just could not write this. :/ I don't know why, but I couldn't find the words for it. As it is, it's short and rather crappy.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own.**

One of Zia's least favorite ways to spend an early morning after a late night was at a meeting. She sipped her coffee, which she'd barely had time to get, along with a muffin, from the coffee shop down the street before heading to work. Even with the caffeine and the sugar from the muffin flowing through her veins, Zia could hardly concentrate on what her coworkers were discussing; her mind felt detached and far-away.

The mission on the Kane family was actually rather small, especially compared to most of the other projects the FBI had taken on. There were five members: Zia, Michel, Marie, Ava, an agent in her late twenties with quite a bit of attitude to make up for her slender, short build, and Alan, the quiet, tall man who had to be in his early thirties, but looked not a day older than twenty-six.

Ava and Michel were in the middle of a heated argument, about what they should do next.

"What we _need _is more information!" Ava yelled, slamming her fist on the meeting table, making the assorted caffeinated drinks slosh. Zia wasn't the only one who'd had a late night last night, and they were all in a general bad mood, even with the added energy of the caffeine.

"What we _need _to do is organize what we have! It's no use in a jumbled up mess!" Michel argued back, grabbing the folder that contained their current information on the case.

Ava opened her mouth to retaliate, but Marie quickly intervened. "How about this: since we're stuck in here for another at least three hours to 'get something done', let's organize the information and then see if we need more."

Nobody dared argue with Marie. The team set to work organizing data so it could at least be understandable.

By the end of a seemingly endless hour and a half, all of the data had been neatly filed into the folder, though it was doubted to stay that way for long.

"What next?" asked Ava, voicing the thoughts on everyones' minds.

"You're right, Ava," Michel agreed. "What _do _we do next?"

###

Carter rolled over, his sleep-encrusted brown eyes focusing on the blaring red numbers of the alarm clock. It was almost noon. He jumped out of his bed, before reminding himself that he didn't have to teach today. He fell back on the pillows, glad to have this time of rest – helping his uncle with the summer school – camp, whatever it was classified as – was tiring.

Not that he didn't love it, of course. The kids – some of whom were actually his age, but they were still kids to him – were some of the best people he'd ever met, and he was more than happy to give them a good time in the summers.

Besides, he got to teach sword-fighting. You couldn't get much better than that.

He yawned, rubbing the sleep in his eyes. But, his mind flashed back to a moment last night, and the girl he'd met...

And it certainly wasn't one of those times in the movies where the guy dreams about the girl, who happens to end up being his true love. Not at all.

He remembered running into someone, and they both had fallen down. He'd gotten up and helped her up. The moment he laid eyes on her, he recognized her. It was like a painful flashback. Just...everything about her reminded him about that..._woman, _the woman who'd caused him so much grief by killing his parents.

And he'd met her daughter.

He was almost sure of it.

The look of near-hatred that had flashed across her eyes the second they looked into his solidified the chances of that actually being her.

_I can't let this control me, _he thought, shaking his head, trying to rid himself of the thought. _I've got to live my life. _

So, he went about his day as he would have, but he couldn't shake the feeling prickling at the back of his neck that something was about to happen.

**A/N: I warned you; short and crappy. I'll try to write the next one a bit quicker, and it should write up a little easier, seeing as it's more of the angstiness you guys love me for. Review please? Thank you! :)**


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